Enjolras' parents had invited him and Éponine over.
"To get to know the young lady we found out about only days ago because there was an article in the newspaper about you," as his mother had said when she'd called him.
From that moment on, Enjolras knew the evening would end in a disaster. It was inevitable, with his family and their prejudices. He wasn't ashamed of Éponine, quite on the contrary actually, but he knew his parents and he knew their attitude towards class.
Reluctantly, Enjolras had accepted, although not before discussing the matter with Éponine. He knew his parents, stiflingly upper class and white, had many flaws and could be exhausting, but he also knew they loved him and wanted the best for him. So, surely, seeing him happy with Éponine would please them.
Éponine had also accepted, because she knew he loved his parents, despite all the problems and arguments they always had.
Now here they were, Enjolras in a tux, Éponine in a strapless sparkling midnight blue long dress, sipping expensive champagne out of expensive glasses while sitting on expensive furniture, surrounded by expensive decorations in the sitting room, waiting to be called to dinner.
It had gone considerably better than they'd expected. Then again, they were just about to start dinner, and they'd only been at the Enjolras mansion for roughly half an hour. It was only a matter of time until something would go wrong.
This was not her world at all. But luckily, up until now, his parents hadn't paid too much attention to her.
His father was too busy discussing politics (Enjolras had to grab Éponine's hand and squeeze it tightly to stop him from saying something he'd regret), his mother too busy cooing over her only son.
"Raphaël," his mother kept saying in that shrill voice of hers. "Raphaël, son, you need to get a haircut. I don't understand why you don't keep it short anymore. It suited you so well. It looked so much more professional."
They were led into the dining room at 7:30 sharp and not a second earlier.
Gentleman that he was, Enjolras drew back the chair for his girlfriend and pressed a soft kiss on her shoulder before he sat down next to her.
The first thing Éponine noticed about the pompous room and the fancy dinner table was the amount of cutlery. She had never learned how to use different kinds of spoons or forks, and she wasn't even sure what half of these things were.
Feeling a slight panic rising up in her, Éponine gripped Enjolras' hand. He smiled encouragingly at her, running his thumb in circles over the back of it. He was just about to say something when his mother spoke up.
"Mademoiselle…."
"Thénardier," Éponine answered. Enjolras and she had discussed if they wanted to give his parents her real name. She still went by Jondrette under certain circumstances, but they both agreed to tell his parents the truth.
"Mademoiselle Thénardier," Mme Enjolras smiled, "my son failed to mention your profession. Are you a lawyer, too?"
"No, Ma'am. I'm a social worker. I help families and their children in their everyday-life and make sure that the children have a secure, loving, and stable home."
"Éponine is amazing with children," Enjolras said proudly, "and the kids love her, which means that she does a great job."
"Mhm," his mum nodded, "and your parents? What about them?"
"Maman, I hardly think her parents are of any importance, are they?"
"No, it's alright." Éponine squeezed his hand lightly. She didn't want to be rude. Éponine really wanted to leave a good impression. She knew Enjolras didn't care if his parents liked her or not, but she also knew that he loved them. Just like she still loved her parents, in a way.
"My father owns a nightclub, my mother doesn't work. She helps him from time to time."
"A nightclub, I see," his mother said thoughtfully, "That's a very… interesting profession. How long have you two been together?"
"We're close to our third anniversary," Enjolras smiled, eyes fixed on Éponine.
"Are we?" she asked, raising her eyebrows questioningly.
"Combeferre reminded me the other day. He wanted to know if we've planned anything."
"Have we?"
"Not yet. It's the day of Gavroche's football match anyway."
"Ah, alright. Yeah, he'd kill us if we didn't come to see him."
"You know who else plays football?"his mother chimed in, "Papa's colleague, M. Louis. Do you remember him, Raphaël? His daughter just graduated from law school and is looking for work. You don't have a job for her by any chance?"
"Leave the boy be for a moment, Claudine," Monsieur Enjolras gently reproved his wife, "didn't you have more questions for Mlle Thénardier? You know I don't like to talk about business during dinner."
Monsieur Enjolras kept talking all the way through the aperitif and the appetiser, chatting about the recent football development (Enjolras was an avid lover of the game, and Éponine had learned to appreciate it since Gavroche had started to play), Combeferre and Courfeyrac (whose fathers used to be colleagues of his "back in the day"), and other innocuous pleasantries. His wife never once removed her gaze from her son's girlfriend. Éponine grew more and more nervous under Madame Enjolras' watchful eye. This was going to be fucking torture, she knew it. When the chitchat was over, the interrogation could begin.
"So your parents are business owners then?" Madame Enjolras asked once the main course was served, in what could have been mistaken for an innocent tone, if Éponine hadn't been excellent at reading people, "How exciting. I imagine it must be interesting, considering all the atrocities your father is involved in."
"Excuse me?" Enjolras choked on his wine at his mother's words, "what are you talking about?"
"Darling, do you really believe we didn't check her before she came here? You know, we have to be careful in our position. Her father is rumoured to be involved with the Patron-Minette. They're criminals, Raphaël, they kill people."
"I'm aware," he replied curtly, visibly tensing up. He was also aware that her father was more than just rumoured to be involved.
"What is it like to grow up in a family of criminals? Constantly surrounded by thieves, murderers, and… who knows what else. Has there never been a moment in your life you considered going into a different direction?"
"Maman, enough."
"Enjolras, it's alright," Éponine reassured him quietly, squeezing his hand, "I've honestly never considered murdering someone for money."
"So you are both aware of your father's problematic lifestyle?"
"Yes, Maman. We know that. Trust me, we're aware."
"Then you might be aware that she's cheating on you. Mon amour," she turned towards her husband, "the photos?"
"Of course, ma chérie." He handed her an envelope.
Under the table, Enjolras grabbed Éponine's hand a little tighter.
His father pulled out a few photos, sliding them over the table to the couple.
"Our detective caught her in the act, kissing another man."
Furrowing his brows, Enjolras looked at the first picture.
"My, Éponine, it seems my parents got a photo of your brother kissing your cheek. You think we should ask them if we can keep it?"
Éponine laughed a little. "I like that photo, let's keep it!"
"We found her with various men," his father chimed in, "leaving their flats early in the morning."
Enjolras took the rest of the photos in both hands, looking through them. Of course he had never actually believed that Éponine cheated on him, but his mother's accusations had caused a slight discomfort within him. Examining the photos though, the dread had vanished in a matter of seconds.
"Éponine, how could you?" he asked, struggling to keep a straight face, "How could you do this to me?"
"Oh, I swear," she answered, a smile tugging on her lips, "Combeferre was a one-night-stand!"
"Combeferre?"
"Did I say that? No I meant Grantaire, of course!"
"Grantaire, too?"
"No, no, just Courfeyrac!"
Enjolras pretended to glare at her for a few more moments before he burst out laughing.
"This is so ridiculous. Maman, Papa, I can assure you that Éponine is faithful. Those are just our friends. Nothing to worry about. I appreciate that you want my best, but following my girlfriend and taking photos of her without her knowledge… Éponine, would you like to tell them the legal grounds for that? She's an excellent photographer, you must know, she knows this is all illegal and we could very well sue you."
Enjolras kissed her temple, a smug grin playing on his lips.
Éponine on the other hand wasn't as confident. She shrunk in on herself, aware of the fact that his parents clearly wanted to get rid of her as quickly as possible. They weren't even subtle about it. From there, the evening didn't improve.
Halfway through the main course - Enjolras and Éponine hardly touched their food as his mother continued to sing the praises of family friends' lovely, talented, well-educated daughters - the doorbell rang.
"Ah, finally," M. Enjolras smiled, "we expected them earlier."
"We're not too late for dinner, right?" Éponine heard the demanding voice of her mother from outside the dining room, just before the door was opened and her parents stepped in.
"Éponine, my darling child!" her mother cooed, showering her face with wet and meaningless kisses.
Enjolras' parents moved to greet them, both mothers sharing an embrace and kisses on the cheek.
The shock clearly evident on her face, Éponine turned towards Enjolras, who wasn't any less surprised. He had expected much from his parents, had counted on his mother trying to set him up with someone else, but inviting Éponine's parents? That went too far. What would come of it? That he would realise her parents were awful, despicable creatures and he'd break up with Éponine because of that? As if he didn't already know about her parents. As if he hadn't had enough unpleasant encounters with them.
"Monsieur, Madame, why don't you sit down, have some dinner, and tell us something about your daughter?" Monsieur Enjolras gestured towards two chairs. Soon enough, the Thénardiers had plates filled with food and glasses filled, emptied, and quickly refilled with wine.
We're eager to know as much about her as possible, if she is to be with our son," his mother smiled.
"You know," Madame Thénardier answered while chewing, "our Ponine has always been a rascal. Quite a wild child. She's good at heart, wants to do the right thing. 'S why she broke off that engagement with Parnasse. Shame, he's a lovely fella."
"You were engaged to Montparnasse?" Enjolras looked at her in bewilderment. "Why did you never mention it?"
He was aware that he was giving his parents exactly what the wanted—namely, a scene—but this truly came as a surprise to him.
"What? You didn't know? I thought you did. It's not like I keep it secret. I think the others all know. Surely I must've mentioned it? I was 16 back then: young and foolish, and desperate for security and safety."
"Didn't you date him after that?"
"Yeah." She shrugged her shoulders. "Could we talk about that at home, please?"
"Yes, of course, I'm sorry," Enjolras smiled apologetically, pressing a soft kiss on her lips.
"So, this Parnasse…" Monsieur Enjolras started.
"Oh, he's a family friend," Éponine's father explained, "Ponine an' Azelma an' him, they grew up together. Always thought one of me girls would marry him, make him me son-in-law. Ah, what a dream… Nice fella, love him like me own son."
Éponine gave a slightly hysterical laugh; Enjolras' hand immediately found hers again, squeezing it lightly.
"So you have another daughter then?" Madame Enjolras asked.
"We used to have a third, yes. But she got stolen away from us," Monsieur Thénardier sighed dramatically, "our darling Corvette."
"Cosette," his wife hissed.
"Cosette, right, yes. The pain is still so fresh, me poor battered heart refuses to acknowledge her name to spare my sanity."
"He's good," Enjolras murmured in Éponine's ear.
"He certainly has a way with words. How else would he have gotten 15,000 Francs for Cosette? He's convincing," she whispered back.
"But Ponine an' Azelma, me own kids… They mistreated her badly. Especially dear Ponine. She was ruthless. Even attempted to steal her boyfriend. Poor Colette."
"Cosette."
"Cosette, poor unfortunate Cosette."
"Do they actually believe this?" Enjolras wondered, whispering into Éponine's hair as he kissed the top of her head.
"Your parents are too clever to believe them."
"Did you ever see her again?" Enjolras' mother wanted to know, fake concern noticeable to everyone in the room.
"We did, we did," Madame Thénardier nodded, "she looked miserable."
"Because you crushed her wedding and tried to convince her husband that her father was a murderer!" Éponine growled, "That's why she looked miserable." She shook her head and turned towards her boyfriend's parents: "Cosette is a lovely young woman. She's very dear to me. Yes, I mistreated her when we were children. But she forgave me. She is good at heart, the kindest person you will ever meet. Cosette married a baron and my parents tried to blackmail him."
"Éponine, will ya shut ya dirty mouth," her father snapped at her.
"I didn't even swear, nothing dirty about what I said. Never said 'fuck' or 'shit' or 'whore', now did I?"
"This is the kind of family you want to be associated with, Raphaël, darling?"
"Maman, please."
"Oh, hush, mon coeur. I'm right, am I not?"
Just before dessert, the doorbell rang again. Mere minutes later, a young woman entered the dining room, smiling brightly at Enjolras' mother.
"Claudine, thank you very much for your invitation!"
"Oh, you're very welcome, dear Géraldine. May I introduce you to my son?"
Enjolras stood up, shaking the woman's hand.
"Pleasure. May I introduce you to my girlfriend?" Enjolras grinned at his mother while he lay his hand on Éponine's shoulder, lightly stroking her shoulder blade with his thumb.
"Your… girlfriend?"
"Did Maman fail to mention her when she invited you for the dinner she's hosting to get to know Éponine? I'm sure it simply slipped her mind. I'm sure she didn't mean to withhold such a crucial bit of information."
Only her boyfriend's warm hand on her skin grounded Éponine. So this had been their plan all along. Invite her parents to show Enjolras how awful her family - and therefore Éponine - was, only to then introduce him to a much more fitting partner.
"I'm sorry," Éponine mumbled, "I need a moment. Excuse me."
She slipped out from underneath Enjolras' hand, quickly making her way outside. She had underestimated how cold late October nights were as she sat shivering on the steps of the mansion. Maybe it wasn't that cold at all. Maybe the dinner just took its toll on her, seeing as the South of France was clearly warmer than Paris.
It was not even two minutes before she felt soft warm lips at the nape of her neck.
"I hate your mum," she mumbled, drawing patterns on the stone steps with the tips of her perfectly manicured fingers.
"Mhm, I get that." Enjolras slowly sat down next to her and draped his jacket across her shoulders.
Éponine didn't dare to look at her boyfriend. Instead, she focused on her hands.
"Cosette spent three hours doing my hair and make-up and nails. I just… I wanted to look my best. I wanted your parents to like me. That was so… ugh." She stood up, pacing up and down at the bottom of the stairs, the jacket held tightly around her small frame. "It was so stupid. I don't care what your parents think of me. I don't care if they like me. I don't care."
"Come here." Enjolras held out his hand and drew her into is arms. "I know you don't care. And I know why you do care."
"What if she's right? What if I'm all the wrong choices?"
"Ponine…" He cupped her face and kissed her softly, "of course you are all the wrong choices. That doesn't mean she's right. You're all the wrong choices because you're just as passionate as I am. Because you and I, we can both be so very cruel and cold. We clash, we're tooth and claw. You're all the wrong choices because I should settle down with someone that has my parents' approval. You're all the wrong choices because you yell and shout at me, because I dare to yell and shout back. You're all the wrong choices because you are what I crave. I wouldn't change a single thing. Your smile lightens my darkest days."
Éponine smiled softly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, while Enjolras lightly stroked her back.
"You know what?" she whispered against his skin, pressing a hot kiss to it.
Enjolras revelled in the feeling of her lips against his neck, her breath a welcoming warmth on his cold skin.
"When my mum greeted yours, she stole her earrings, her watch, and two rings. I'm not even mad, I'm just impressed. I wouldn't have managed the earrings and probably only one of the rings."
He chuckled, drawing Éponine closer against his chest.
"Do you want to leave?"
"No. I'm not running away. I'll face your mother. I'll face her words. I don't care." She paused. "Alright, I do care, but I'm a Thénardier and we don't back down. We aren't cowards—except my father, who truly is a coward. But you know me, I fight."
Enjolras laughed lightly, kissing her full on the lips.
It wasn't long until they entered the house again, Éponine trailing behind Enjolras. Silently, they slipped into their chairs.
"Raphaël, are you alright?" His mother gave him a concerned look, her brows furrowed.
"Of course, Maman. Éponine and I will be leaving after dessert. Géraldine, would you be so kind as to give me your number so I can call you in case I'm able to offer you a job?"
"Why yes, absolutely!" She smiled at him, fishing a pen out of her purse. Géraldine leaned over the table, grabbed Enjolras' hand, and scribbled her number on the back of it. "There you go. And even if you don't have a job for me, maybe you'll have time for a coffee?"
"I'm sure I will. There's always time for coffee," he smiled, squeezing her hand lightly.